FortyLove
by Maeveth
Summary: TezuTori. Yaoi implications. Futurefic; a day in the life of a star professional tennis player and his manager.


Pairing: TezuTori

Futurefic. Nothing graphic but some major yaoi implications. Do enjoy.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd be richer than hell right now. My bank account says they're not.

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"Out! Game, Tezuka. Tezuka leads, five games to one."

Despite dominating the match, there was no expression whatsoever on Tezuka Kunimitsu's face. There never was. It drove the media and spectators insane to know that the brightest star on the ATP circuit was also the most inscrutable. Regardless of how many tournaments he won, how many accolades he acquired, how many endorsements he collected...Tezuka never cracked a smile.

His manager, though, was another story entirely.

Ohtori Choutarou grinned broadly as his employer added to an already formidable lead. It had been ridiculously gratifying to watch Tezuka's career blossom, moving seamlessly from owning the junior high circuit to absolute domination of the high school ranks to now, when he was regarded as the single most impressive player to join the ATP in the last five years. Comparisons to Pete Sampras in his prime abounded, despite the fact that Tezuka was all of nineteen years old. He already had one Grand Slam title under his belt, and more would doubtless follow. Ohtori had watched it all from the beginning.

There were, of course, reasons for that.

A reporter from one of the major Japanese newspapers approached him with a few questions, which he answered warmly and with good humor. The media were learning to approach him with all the inquiries, because he -- unlike his employer -- displayed a healthy sense of humor and a willingness to chat. From next to him, a quietly amused chuckle sounded. Fuji Syuusuke, whose own early-round match had ended an hour previous, shook his head in amusement. "They learn quickly," he observed.

"Yeah, they're starting to get it," Ohtori replied with a chuckle of his own.

"It is not as though Tezuka-san has ever been one for words," Fuji commented with dry good humor. The young prodigy had been the star's best friend for years, so he spoke from a great deal of experience.

"Too true." Ohtori winked, earning another chuckle. Fuji was aware of Ohtori's peculiar knowledge of everything that went through Tezuka's mind, and evidently this was a source of massive amusement to the _tensai_. He knew that he and his employer occasionally scared the folk that didn't know them both well by finishing each other's sentences.

He watched the lithe, graceful figure move around the court below, a faint smile touching his lips. Age hadn't added much in the way of bulk to the wiry frame, though his weight had become more proportionate to his six feet, one inches of height. He was as precise and powerful as always, though the tour had yet to see the best of his abilities. One thing about him would never change, though; Ohtori would always find him perfect.

"Hey, Fuji-san. Congrats." They both turned to see James Calvin, one of the rising American stars on the circuit, climbing over the row of seats behind them to park on Fuji's other side. Ohtori didn't know him personally, but he hung out with Fuji occasionally.

The _tensai_ smiled in thanks. "Thank you, Calvin-san. Come to watch Tezuka-san's match?"

James snorted. "Duh. I wouldn't miss that for the world. Not often you get to see talent like that without paying admission. Who's your friend?" He nodded indicatively towards Ohtori.

"My apologies, Calvin-san. This is Ohtori Choutarou; he is Tezuka-san's manager and publicist. Ohtori-kun, James Calvin, currently ranked 75th on the tour." Fuji was very good at introductions.

James sized Ohtori up thoughtfully; it looked as though he was assessing the fact that Ohtori looked every one of his eighteen years and no more. "You look pretty young to be a manager," he finally said. "How'd you manage to get that gig?"

Ohtori chuckled quietly. "Tezuka-san knows I like to talk more than he does," he quipped, earning chuckles from both of the other players. "We're old friends from school. I'm better with people than he is, so he drafted me."

Fuji put in his two cents' worth, his voice amused. "Ohtori-kun is one of only three people Tezuka-san trusts entirely," he explained. "As Oishi-san had other obligations and I had my own career to consider, he was the logical choice for the job. He's also an excellent player in his own right; we both practice with him." Ohtori blushed.

"Game, set, match! Won by Tezuka, 6-0, 6-1, 6-0."

The little group applauded loudly as the two opponents met at the net to shake hands. Tezuka completed his brief after-match ritual of bowing to the referee and the crowd, as expressionless as ever. As he straightened, he made eye contact with his manager and inclined his head briefly in a gesture that had become habitual. Ohtori flashed a smile in return before Tezuka vanished into the locker room to change.

The post-match press conference was brief and concise, as it always was. Ohtori waited for the reporters to finish their questions, fielding a few of his own out in the hall in the meantime. Once the media were through, he tracked down his friend and employer to begin the customary dissection of the match while walking back towards the hotel. They inevitably stayed near the courts for precisely this purpose.

"His foot movement was quite slow," Tezuka opined blandly.

"Yeah; he was relying way too much on raw power," Ohtori agreed. "He took a game off you, though."

"When he's on, his serve is much like yours," Tezuka answered, referring to Ohtori's essentially unreturnable Scud Serve. "He is rarely on."

"So he hit it for one game." Ohtori could be unpredictable in his control, but he wasn't THAT unpredictable. "As it stands, you've got a good chance of meeting Fuji-san in the semifinals."

"A real match." Despite the unchanging expression, Tezuka gave off the impression of anticipation. "Finally."

"Heh." They ambled towards their hotel, crossing into the lobby. Instantly they were accosted by a small group of fans looking for Tezuka's autograph. He obliged, signing in precisely-formed kanji before they moved on. The elevator bore a similar scenario, resulting in more kanji. Peace and quiet weren't achieved until Tezuka had unlocked the door to their hotel room. They could have easily afforded two, but they saw no reason to. As Ohtori had reasoned once to a curious reporter, they had been roommates for years. There was no reason to fix something that wasn't broken.

The moment the door latched shut, Tezuka reached out, snagging Ohtori around the waist and dragging him forward. "One more win in the books," he murmured, before capturing Ohtori's lips with his own in a searing, passionate kiss. Ohtori willingly submitted; this happened after every major match. Tezuka was a deeply driven, deeply passionate person who usually locked that side of himself away. Tennis unlocked it, and Ohtori was always the beneficiary.

The pattern was always the same, and had been since they'd embarked on this career path. The clothing was discarded before they ever got to the bed. The act was heated, though never wild; underscoring it all was the total devotion that dictated why they were never apart for longer than a day at the absolute most. Completion brought the uncanny sensation of two souls fused into one; thoughts shared, hearts beat in time, bodies linked in the truest expression of closeness allowed to two people.

They remained where they were for a long moment, suspended out of time and held in a world where nothing existed beyond each other. Very gently, Tezuka disengaged himself and rolled over onto his side, gathering Ohtori into his arms. "Forever mine," he murmured, lips burying themselves into the silvery waves of hair crowning the other teenager's head.

Nothing else in Ohtori's life compared to the feeling of resting in Tezuka's arms. He'd occupied that spot exclusively for years, and neither of them saw it changing any time in the future. Friends, lovers, beloved; there were many words that could be applied to them, but very few did them any justice. Bound inextricably, till death parted them, and nothing would ever come between them. "Always," he whispered by way of reply.

They remained like that until sleep overtook them both, the quiet of the night settling in once more. Ohtori drifted off, content in the knowledge that he loved and was loved, and nothing on earth could ever change that fact.


End file.
